


The Noodle Incident

by distantsun



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantsun/pseuds/distantsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick gets clean with his favorite Vault Dweller. (Late-as-hell gift exchange fic for synthsational_sinner)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Noodle Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synthsational_sinner](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=synthsational_sinner).



> This is a very late Valentine's Day gift and I am very ashamed. But here it is. Enjoy, have clean thoughts :)
> 
> (btw I made myself laugh pretty hard with the title, ngl)

“It’s not funny,” Nick Valentine grumbled, wringing soup out of his hat.

Arabella shot him a sly grin, plucking a stray noodle off the shoulder of his coat. “It’s a _little_ funny.”

As evenings went, it had been more eventful than most. A dinner date at Power Noodles wasn’t out of the ordinary, but Takahashi going ballistic and tipping a nearly-full pot of soup all over Valentine’s head-- well, that was something you didn’t see every day. _Someone_ had been messing with the poor old bot’s circuits; it didn’t take a detective of Valentine’s skill to suspect a certain ginger with a knack for all things mechanical and a tendency to end up in the clink for similar stunts, but that was a lead destined to be tackled another, significantly less soggy day.

Valentine had grumbled, but he had sat there, soaked with broth, and fixed Takahashi up, and made sure the noodle-bot was okay and back to his usual _nani ni shimasu ka_ -ing self before they left, because that was just the kind of man her Valentine was. Watching his coat drip on the pavement as they walked up the path to her house, she hid a smile behind her hand.

“I’ve half a mind to complain to the manager,” he muttered.

“Three guesses what he’ll say.” Arabella unlocked the door to her house and swung it open, pulling Valentine inside.

She hadn’t owned the little place in Diamond City for long, but she’d managed to find a few small ways to make it her own; the parlor had some not-too-damaged furniture, a radio, and a small collection of books she’d scavenged, and she’d even gathered a bouquet of fern flowers in an empty bottle for decoration. Little comforts made all the difference sometimes.

Valentine appeared to notice none of these minor details, shrugging off his soaked trenchcoat and shaking himself like a wet dog. He caught her watching, and his mouth twitched in amusement. “Mind if I slip into something a little more comfortable?” he deadpanned.

“Not at all,” she murmured, sliding up to him. “Only if you’re gonna start shedding clothes upon seconds of entering a girl’s house, you ought to at least have the decency to ask her if she wants to _help_.”

“Is that so?” He smirked, brow arching, and loosened his tie. “Have at it, Miss Manners.”

She undid the first few buttons of his damp, worn white shirt, revealing an expanse of patched and paneled skin. Meeting his eyes, she smiled up at him, fingers lightly caressing his chest. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d seen him undress, but each time she still saw his eyes flicker with the fear that she would flinch or pull away, so she did her best to reassure him however she could.

“I’ll catch my death of cold, you don’t get these wet things off me,” he said, his voice a little low and huskier than usual, and she laughed and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He frowned down at his right arm, bare and skeletal to the elbow, and shook it off.

“All that damned salt can’t be good for the old wires,” he muttered. “As if I’m not rusty enough already.”

Arabella frowned in concern; then her face lit up and she grabbed his hand. “Come on. I have an idea. Been meaning to show you something, anyway…”

“Oh, _boy_ ,” Valentine said under his breath, but he was smiling, letting her pull him across the room.

With a flourish she opened the door to a small side room that had been empty last time he’d seen it. Now it was warmly lit, decorated with a small table and another bouquet of flowers, and had as its centerpiece an intact and clean bathtub.

He whistled. “Indoor plumbing, huh? Someone’s living the high life.”

“Nicest house in town,” she said, a little smugly. “The pipes were already in place, but Sturges and Preston helped me hook everything up.” She leaned over to turn the water on, letting the tub fill while she returned her attention to Valentine. Hands moving to his belt, she added, “And if I hear one joke about _laying pipe_ I’m leaving you to rust.”

His brow arched. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What are you doing?”

“Taking your clothes off. Keep up, Valentine.”

He huffed, stepping out of his soup-splattered pants. “No, I mean… you want me in _there?_ ”

“Want you plenty of places,” she murmured with a smirk, caressing his side. “But right now, yes.”

“With you?” His eyes darted down to glance at his body, then back up at her.

“There’s room.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Oh. You won’t… short out, will you?”

“No. Wouldn’t have lasted long out here if I wasn’t waterproof.” He shifted, stretching and curling his metal fingers in a nervous gesture. “I just haven’t… with anyone, not since…” He shook his head. “Nick remembers this. _I’ve_ never done it.”

Arabella caught his hand, smiling gently, and moved her other hand to slowly draw down the zipper on her pants. “First time for everything. I think I can make it worth your while...”

Valentine’s glowing eyes were fixed on her as she undressed, taking her time in sliding her pants down over her hips, pulling her shirt over her head. His lips twitched and the golden glow seemed to burn brighter as she reached behind her to slowly unhook her bra.

“Now that’s just unfair,” he said, voice low and rough. “You got to help _me._ ”

“And now _you_ get to _watch._ ” She leaned over to shed the last of her clothing, straightened up slow and languid, and carefully stepped into the full tub. The water was warm and soothing and she nearly broke from her seductive routine to sigh at how nice it felt.

Lowering herself into the water, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Join me?”

He could move damn fast when he wanted to. His scramble over the side of the tub and their subsequent negotiation of position weren’t graceful, but after a time he was settled behind her, her body resting between his legs.

She slid down to tip her head back into the water, soaking her hair, then moved back up to lay her head on his shoulder. His hands shifted through the water to rest just above her hips.

He hummed a pleased note, lips against her neck. “Could get used to this.”

“Yeah?” She grinned teasingly. “Can’t have you too clean-cut and well-scrubbed. Don’t want to lose that hard-boiled grit that drives the ladies wild.”

He nipped at her neck in response, and she shivered. “Is _that_ what it is,” he murmured in that low voice she loved.

She twisted around in the water (wriggling rather more than necessary against his lap) until she was kneeling over his hips, and leaned over slightly to reach for the small white rectangle of soap on the little table by the tub. “That and the hat.” 

“What are you doing?” Valentine’s eyes flickered to the bar in her hand, then back to her face-- then a little lower, making her flush despite herself.

“Hold still.” She rubbed the bar of soap between her hands, working up a lather, then began to smooth her fingers along the unbroken panels of skin on his chest. His skin was warm and soft from the water just like human skin, if a little more worn, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch.

She loved these moments, she thought; the little intimacies, the small ways he allowed himself to be vulnerable for her, and vice versa. She was careful with his damaged edges, feeling him tense and then relax as her fingers stimulated the broken sensors along his chest and neck.

After some time he gripped her wrist in his intact hand and opened his eyes, smiling down at her. “My turn,” he said softly, taking the bar of soap from her and running it slowly down her body, between her breasts, along the soft subtle curve of her stomach.

She knew she was blushing, face hot with obvious desire. He may not have had quite the same tells as a human man would have, but from the way his eyes flashed and his servos seized like muscles tensing, she could tell he was feeling the same. He slid his arms around her to soap and rub her back, pulling her flush against him, and she had to work to keep from going entirely boneless in his arms.

Her lips found his in a slow, heated kiss, and she couldn’t help shifting against him, spurred on by the soft low noises he made in the back of his throat and the rhythm of his hands stroking her back, one soft and warm, one cool and sharp on her skin. He knew all the right places to touch, the spots that made all her muscles relax and the spots that made her stiffen and arch and cry out-- he _knew_.

“All worked up already,” he mused with a low chuckle, moving his intact hand to cup her breast.

Her eyes flashed at him. “Valentine, you’re a _tease._ ”

“Am I?” Suddenly his hand was somewhere else entirely, fingers tracing along her entrance so gently, and her hips jerked in shock and need. She tried to answer, but it came out as a strangled cry. He understood anyway.

Positioning his fingers just short of entering her, he held her hip gently with his other hand and murmured in her ear. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

Letting her head fall back, eyes closed, face flushed, she rolled her hips against his hand. As she found a stuttering rhythm, riding his fingers, he splayed his free hand across her back, holding her steady, making sure she didn’t fall back into the water. His whispered encouragements in her ear made her tremble and whimper-- she barely registered the words, but the low rumble of his voice traveled straight down her spine into the hot desperate core of her.

His fingers moved against her, inside her, and together they found the perfect angle and rhythm to make her throw her head back and moan, her fingers digging into his shoulders, shuddering around him as he kissed her neck over and over, murmured her name, told her she was beautiful, said other things that slid away into white noise and bliss.

Panting, she collapsed against him; he laughed softly at the splash of water she displaced, and caught her safely in his arms, rubbing and tracing random patterns on her back.

“Well, I think I’m probably clean,” he said softly, into her damp hair. “What say we take this party somewhere drier?”

“Afraid you’re gonna prune up?” She grinned tiredly up at him, kissed him slow, her gently roaming hands promising a returned favor at some point in the near future.

Later, when the tub was drained, several other positions had been explored, and they were both warm in bed, she decided that the most important discovery of the evening was that Nick Valentine looked remarkably handsome in nothing but a bathrobe.


End file.
